


I Guess Things Happen That Way

by XoXLexLoveXoX



Series: The Legend Of [7]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XoXLexLoveXoX/pseuds/XoXLexLoveXoX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>reprise of "Walk The Line" from Rick's POV. Road to Terminus setting. Rick mourns the loss of his family after the governor's final assault on the prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Guess Things Happen That Way

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing

~Well you ask me if I'll forget my baby.  
I guess I will, someday.  
I don't like it but I guess things happen that way.  
You ask me if I'll get along.  
I guess I will, someway.  
I don't like it but I guess things happen that way.~

He had lost count of the days, drifting in and out of consciousness. It had been a shock to see that man again, berating at his front door, sporting a new personal army and a tank to boot. Worst of all was seeing the stone cold faces of his family as The Governor produced Herschel and Michonne as hostages. He swore to step down from the leader position, revoking his claim of dictatorship over the group as he was willingly replaced by a diplomatic council. However he was forced to make a choice that no one-man should. Fight and kill innocent people along with his own group, or leave the prison, putting his family helplessly back out on the road. Neither were appealing. He tried, he did. He tried so hard for the power hungry man in front of him to see reason, to see that they could end this peacefully by coexisting alongside one another. But his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.  
As he limped desperately away from the smoldering rubble that was once their home, leaning on his son Carl for support, he was defeated. Beaten and bloody, Rick had no other choice but to flee the catastrophe that The Governor had brought with him. If only for his son's sake.  
If it had been just him, sure that Carl and Judith were taken care of, he would have stayed. Stayed to finish fighting alongside his friends and died on that blood-stained field in earnest.  
When Michonne saved him from being strangled to death, Rick used the last of his will to find those closest to him. The bus had already departed, a majority of those from Woodbury on board. It appeared however, that most if not all of the original group had stayed to fight, willing to give their lives to protect their home and loved ones. He past by plenty of familiar faces, but only found one out of the three he was most worried about. He and Carl had sprinted past the tank which The Governor's new group had brought along, worn metal now cshared as the entire machine was engulfed in flames. His eyes never stopping in their feverish search for Daryl and Judith. His heart had been crushed when they happened upon the empty car seat of baby Jude, crimson staining the interior. He had wanted to keep looking, to find any sign of them, dead or alive. But Carl had seen reality before he could, pulling him toward the tree line as they made their escape.  
His mind was numb, the smell of sulfur burning and triggered gunpowder thick in the air. His mind refused to accept that his family was gone as he continued to search the area for any sign of life, forest tracks unreadable to him. He cursed himself for letting the group scatter so easily, knowing that if Daryl were here, he would be able to pick up any trails on their group.  
He had almost forgotten the pain of the hole in his leg from being shot as he and Carl pushed a sofa over to cover the door of their makeshift hiding spot. The ex-officer had collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss, a venom laced sleep plaguing him. As if the horrific event hadn't been freshly traumatizing in his mind as it was, Rick suffered from a feaverish fit as his wounds throbbed in tune with his racing thoughts. Flashes of memories blended together in his dreams, good and bad.   
Waking from his coma, finding Lori, Carl, and Shane, killing his best friend, meeting Daryl, falling out with Lori, discovering her betrayal and pregnancy, walking trails with Daryl, killing a little girl Walker, Lenner, holding his daughter in his arms for the first time, kissing Daryl for the first time, planting crops with Carl, joking with Daryl, Glenn and T, finding out Lori was dead, meeting The Governor for the first time, seeing Daryl cradle baby Judith, Carl getting shot, sharing a quiet cell with Daryl and Jude.  
The memories swirled about in his head, making him unsure if he was truly dreaming or being damned to relive all the painful moments.  
He woke in a cold sweat, Carl curled up in a corner of the livingroom, when he finally found the sense to do something about his open wounds. He had given up hope, only maintaining his basic survival instincts to keep his son out of harms way.  
It wasn't until a knock at the door echoed through the empty house that Rick found a piece of his old spunk buried deep down. He whispt himself into action only to have his heart flutter at the sight that greeted him through the front doors peephole. The weary form of Michonne mirrored his 'last hope' happiness as they let her in.  
It had been days since Michonne literally showed up at their front door step that Rick managed to halfway pull himself from the fog that settled low over his brain. They had decided to stay at the abandoned house until Rick gained back some of his strength, leaving Michonne and Carl to scavenge for food and supplies. The bed rest was bitter-sweet, his body thankful for the time to recharge, while his mind rewound through the last year, torchering himself at the constant reminder that they were gone now. He had a sliver of hope, since Michonne found them, that it was possible for others to be alive. However the rash part of his thoughts reminded him of the reason they hadn't wanted to give up the prison in the first place. It wasn't very likely that many were lucky enough to find a solid place to take shelter.  
Rick spent days at a time laying out on the couch or the master bedroom's bed lost in thought. He would dream of his daughter and wake up nearly screaming, desperately seeking out Daryl's comforting form, only to be reminded that he was gone too.  
Wanting nothing more than to get out of his own head, the leader began picking up books to pass the time. The cool weather seeping its way into the house made it uncomfortable but not unbearable. Taking comfort on the plush queen sized bed upstairs, Rick secluded himself in reading while he drank stale water to sooth his raw throat. Carl and Michonne had gone on a run, leaving Rick to himself. It was then that their hiding place had been compromised. A group of men had plundered through the house, digging up whatever they could find. Still weak, the ex-officer had hid to avoid confrontation. The men didn't seem friendly at all. He tried to make quick work of getting out of the house undetected before Carl and Michonne got back. He hadn't been entirely lucky however, when he was discovered in the upstairs bathroom and resulted in killing one of the men.  
It had been a close call but in all honesty he was quite thankful to be out of the house and out in the crisp Georgia air again.

He wasn't sure how long ago it had been, days blending together in a void mix. Rick's wounds began to heal to a point of bearable discomfort as they made their way. Following a set of train tracks, they had come across a sign that raised alert. And then another. And another. They were makeshift maps, leading from all directions to one location. Terminus. While he had learned not to trust anything that seemed too friendly or too good to be true, it was their only lead. If anyone from their group had seen these signs, he was certain that it was possible they had followed them.  
The three were only a couple miles away from their destination when night fell over the land forcing them to seek out a campsite. This was clearly a used trail, Rick had noted, when they happened upon a previously used site just off the trail, campfire ring already set up and an old rusty truck parked along one side. They had settled in for a meager meal of stale crackers, a can of mixed vegetables and water, small talk filling the air. They finished their meal eagerly, starved stomachs thankful for whatever they could get. It wasn't long until Carl retired himself to sleep in the broken down vehicle  
Rick wished he could say that he was agile enough to have noticed the faint sound of approaching feet. But it wasn't until he felt the cold steel of a gun push up against his temple that he registered a threat. He held his breath as they were surrounded, eager grins playing on the faces of the sketchy looking men. He recognized only one of them, a flash flowing through his mind of a face he had seen of the group that ran them out of the house they had been previously occupying. It appeared by their triumphant banter that they had been searching for them. Playing no games, who appeared to be their leader, the man holding a gun to his head began a countdown. Rick feverishly searched the terrified eyes of Michonne for a plan as she was helpless to do anything. His heart hammered in his chest, threatening to break out, as he saw one of them men pull Carl from the car, pinning him violently to the ground.  
The man behind him stopped his count when a sudden shout of, "Joe!" was let out from an unknown source, hidden by the deep shadows of night. Both groups searched the darkness until a new figure appeared through the haze.  
It wasn't until the newcomer stepped around the side of the car and into the dancing light of their campfire that Rick's breath caught in his throat. The ex-officer's eyes began to water when his brain processed the horror stricken sight of Daryl approaching the scene. They locked eyes for a moment, both asking tales of 'why' and 'how'. Daryl was speaking now, his sultry southern drawl blanketing him in a cold chill. The older man behind him retorted smugly, his words laced with awe and making Rick loath the way Daryl's name fell off the mans tounge. Though his hunter's pleading voice was something he feared he'd never hear again, Rick couldn't shake the violent shivers that came along with a new revolution. His partner had called the man Joe. His love knew these unsavory men, spoke to them by name as if they were well acquainted. The idea that his Daryl was in affiliation with these cold killers was almost as unbelievable as the idea that Daryl was really alive at all. He faintly filtered through the the conversation being had before him, almost protesting when he realized that his lover was trying to give up his life in return for theirs. Rick shook his head lightly, pushing the ungratified splinters of disapproval and almost betrayal from his mind when the man named Joe spoke again.

"Now you say, Daryl, that these are good people. Now I think our friend Lue would disagree. I'll have to speak for him of course, seeing that your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."  
He paused to let the statement sink in before continuing, "Now that right there, is a lie."  
As soon as the final word left the mans mouth, the group took action. The two men standing guard in front of him closed in around the hunter, one taking the butt of his rifle to Daryl's stomach. Rick flinched when he curled over before receiving another blow to the head. The redneck did little to defend himself, he noticed, as he took hit after hit, skin slowly being stained red.  
Suddenly the men paused their assault to hauled Daryl to his feet, slamming his beaten and bloody form against the hood of the car. One hand came up to grasp what must have been painfully in his hair, forcing him to look back at the scene. The sheriff gritted his teeth when seductive hands began to roam over his partners bruised body, a cringe of humiliation overcoming his features. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, praying that this was some new type of nightmare, as he tried to forget the sight of his love being manhandled before him and the sounds of his young son struggling with a foreign form on top of him. When he opened his eyes again it was met by the sorrowful gaze of Daryl, desperately trying to seek him out for comfort.  
Rick began racking his brain for any form of escape plan, as he witnessed the two unsavory men press themselves up against Daryl, whispering what could only be smug threats in his ear.  
His rage was building when his fearful mind came to the conclusion of what the group planned on doing to Daryl and Michonne. Even Carl. His eyes were fixed in wavering from the scene now, his vision beginning to blur. He was only pulled back from it when the gun at his head prodded him for his attention as Joe spoke, "Ya' look nervous there, pal. What's got ya' so worried?"  
Rick tried desperately to mask his flowing emotions, trying not to let on that he knew Daryl that well, in the hope that at least someone would be spared. The older man surveyed the situation, looking in between his anxious men, and locking onto the stare that he and Rick had yet to pull themselves out of. A moment later and realization came over the older man's features. Clearly he hadn't done a well enough job when suddenly the man let out a barking laugh , "Oh no, don't tell me-?"   
His gut dropped for a moment when he heard the sound of the man cocking his gun and Daryl suddenly trying to fight his way free from the hands holding him. "Oh, so its true? The two of ya' a thing? Is that it Daryl?" The ex-officer couldn't believe that the man had deduced that so quickly, recognizing the darkest glare that the Dixon gave in response.  
Joe took a hold of the scruff of Rick's jacket, adjusting the angle at which he held his weapon, "Well, I'll be damned!" He let out another amused chuckle.  
"Well than, this jus' gotta little more interestin', didn't it?"  
Rick couldn't pull his gaze from Daryl, seeking some spark of familiarity to keep him grounded as Joe leaned in close enough for him to loudly whisper, "Here's how we'll do it than. My boys here, are gonna beat and fuck ye'r boyfriend ta' death. Then ye'r lady-friend. Then ye'r boy." Joe paused between each sentence, allowing the biting edge to sink into Rick's veins, "Then-then I'll kill ya' myself." Rick shook his head again, his vision blurring again in hatred. The man watched him carefully, gaging the glare that unknowingly overtook him. There was silence for a moment as Joe pulled away from him, feverish curiosity filling him as the moment strung on.  
Suddenly one of the men slammed Daryl's head down on the hood of the car, blood splattering on the metal from his open wounds, causing Rick to flinch. He could no longer keep his panic under control, his unsteady breathing causing him to shake violently. The two behind Daryl worked together in pinning him down as one of them positioned himself behind the hunter. The man rubbed enticing circles along his hips and thighs for a moment before snaking his hands around to Daryl's belt buckle. He undid the flap with anxious hands and swiftly undid his pants in anticipation.  
Allthough he had already knew what they planned to do, Rick had to rip his eyes away from the sight of his love being taken advantage of, Joe's threat bouncing around in his swirling mind. The sheriff knew that he would soon be forced to witness the same thing being done to Michonne and his son and the thought blinded him. Rick became desperate as he heard the vile comments being made to Daryl. He stole a glance up and realized that his particular captor was watching the scene with sick satisfaction. Feeling even more disgusted, he took the older mans distracted state as a window of opportunity. The rest happened so fast. He threw his weight back at the man but was rendered deaf when the ring of a shot being fired penetrated his ear drums. The shock of the sudden shot struck everyone. The man looming over Michonne flinched back, unsure of where the shot had come from. The sword-wielder swiftly overpowered the confused man, taking his weapon. The large one, who was still looming over Carl, appeared to panic, scooping the boy up and taking him hostage. The two men hovering over Daryl had been distracted as it was, the loud bang setting them into a confused and stunned state, loosening their hold on the hunter. Daryl took the opportunity to wrench one of his arms free from their grasp, swinging his elbow out to sharply jab the one behind him in the throat. Now freed, he spun in place, landing a bone-cracking punch to the other ones face. Rick was slow to wrench himself from his stunned state, knowing that if he didn't act now, his defence assault would have been for nothing.  
He lunged at Joe, his vision going white as he wrestled the man for dominance, keeping his gun held out at bay. The man had wrapped his arms around Rick in an attempt to hold his limbs in place. He struggled get himself free but to no avail. His mind was gone, running over everything the men had said and done. What they promised to do. For a moment, flashes of their life at the prison went through Rick's mind. The smiling faces of Carl, Michonne, and Daryl painfully burned into his minds-eye. Before he knew what he was doing, adrenaline willing him to protect his family, Rick planted his teeth firmly in the older man's throat, ripping a chunk from the hot flesh. Disgusted but not sorry, he spat the ball of skin and gut to the ground, thick blood coating his tongue. He was utterly blinded now, although the man holding his son was easily twice his size, Rick charged him. He felt like a feral beast as a wrenched the man away from Carl. Fat rolls fell back in a panic as Rick recovered his fallen blade and through himself full force onto him, all pain from previous injury forgotten. All of his rage flowed out of him in a satisfying derange as he plunged the knife repeatedly into the final member's skull, taking out any anger that had built in him since day one. It wasn't until all of his energy had depleted, fingers numb from exhaustion, that he stopped swinging. He laid over the man, body still shaking from the rush, as he tried to tame his heavy, uneven breathing. In that moment, he could not bring himself to look up. He knew that what he had done was unnecessarily brutal and judging by the way no one approached him he must have been a frightful sight. Rick left his eyes downcast, searching what little was left of his soul for an explanation to give the three pairs of eyes he felt burning holes into his back. When he found none, he stood, knees shaking. On the edge of his peripheral vision he saw what was left of his family standing together. Michonne's bloodied hands were wrapped around Carl in comfort, for his or her own sake, he didn't know. Carl's bloody face was barely looking up from the ground, eyes hidden in the haunting darkness. Daryl stood close beside them, his features unreadable behind the long hair he used to hide his emotion, pants still hanging open and sagging slightly, a reminder as to what had almost happened. 'Something worse. I did it to stop something worse' he told himself over and over again as his hollowed out body moved past them to their scattered belongings. Rick couldn't bare to look at the scene any longer. He began packing their things and placing what little they had in the car. The others slowly followed, no words to offer. He didn't blame them. He himself didn't know what to say after something like that. The vehicle didn't work, however no one in their group appeared to want to sleep amongst the corpses that now littered their makeshift campsite. This was more of an excuse, silently given by each one of them. Sleep seemed to be the last thing on each of their minds as they sat silently in the cab of the truck.  
Dawn couldn't have come soon enough. Rick was the first to exit the vehicle, claiming to keep watch with the growing light. This however was an excuse as well. He needed some time to think alone, the night spent sitting in close proximities to the people he wanted to protect, setting him back into a thick layer of smog. He sat up against the side of the car, letting his brain untangle the narling mess as his eyes stared aimlessly into the mass of trees and woodland.   
His senses on high alert since last night, Rick listened to the sound of the car door being opened and closed on the other side, waiting to see who had grown comfortable enough to approach him first. For the first time since last night his eyes studied the worn out form of Daryl. His steps were light and careful as he tentatively approached him, gaze intent on the items he held in his hands. It wasn't until his partner was in front of him, arm extended with a damp rag that Rick could see the full extent at which the group had dealt on him. One of his partners eyes was swollen, encircled in a deep purple bruise. He had a gash in his lip and over his temple, the rest of him scattered in small scratches and marks. Rick had a flare of the anger he had felt last night arise at the sight of what those men had done to Daryl, but swallowed it down, knowing that more anger was not what they needed right now. Instead he tried to smile, knowing that it probably looked more like a grimace as he tried to hide his sorrow.  
"We should save it." He tried, his voice rough. Daryl studied him closely, "Ya' can't see yourself. We can."   
Rick accepted the rag reluctantly, trying to hide the sharp pain he suddenly felt in his heart. After all that, after what had almost happened to the hunter, he was still the one to try and comfort Rick first. Yet when the man sat down next to him he felt some of the pain lift off of his shoulders, replaced only by tired joy that Daryl was truly back at his side.  
The air was silent for a moment as Rick dabbed the damp rag along his face.  
"I didn't know who they were." Daryl offered, something of a pleading tone carrying his words. It was then that the hunter looked up at him, "I me'n, I knew th'y were bad guys. Jus' not tha' kinda' bad."  
Defeated, his partner dropped his gaze again when he didn't respond. The leader got the impression that Daryl was somehow guilty about what had happened, fearing that Rick blamed him. It was his turn to comfort his partner before the redneck settled on his wrong realization of resentment. He took Daryl's chin between his dirt stained fingers, forcing their eyes to meet.  
There was a moment of silence as the two searched each others eyes before Rick bent forward to bring their lips together. It was a soft and conveying kiss, tainted only by the taste of a dead man's blood.  
It ended too quickly when Rick pulled back and rested their foreheads together, breathing in the air of their reobtained peace. The steel exterior he had built up since last night melted away, the painful joy he felt now showing through his body language as he stroked Daryl's cheek lovingly.  
Rick held his gaze, "Hey, it's not on you, Daryl."  
There was a message of thanks written in his love's misty sky blue eyes, his body finally deflating of some of his previous tension. He wanted to run his hands over his partner and wash away the memory of any unwanted touches that he was forced to endure. He wanted to spend the day wrapped in one another's embrace, reminding them that this was real, that Daryl was really here.  
"You're here now and that's all that matters."  
Daryl opened his mouth to say something else but closed it again. There silence for a moment as they lavished one another's presence before Rick heard words that had never before left Daryl's mouth, "I-I love you."  
He couldn't hold back the odd mix of passion and fear swelling in his chest. They locked lips again, swirling on a high that only came from the comfort of one another.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, another chapter down! Again, if you didn't notice, this was a reprise of 'walk the line'. I had a lot of fun taking a previous story and flipping the POV. Thanks for any views and reviews!!:-)


End file.
